


If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my dog

by FishSlayer



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU where most of the bad shit didn't happen, F/F, Fluff, Gay birbs for your soul, Gen, f/f - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-30 01:05:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10149578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishSlayer/pseuds/FishSlayer
Summary: Angela feels she couldn't possibly keep a pet and give it the attention it deserves.The Overwatch family steps in in ways only they would.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pyrorocketeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrorocketeer/gifts).



Angela decides to get herself a dog.

Perhaps it would be more accurate to say she decides to _keep_ a dog. It comes as somewhat of a surprise to her. Every time she had considered it in the past she was forced to conclude caring for a pet properly would be an impossible task for someone with her job.

Her status as a world-renowned surgeon and vital field agent of Overwatch aside, Angela is a researcher and a scientist. Whatever time she doesn’t spend out on the field, training with various other members of Overwatch, patching someone up or performing routine check ups on other agents, she spends on her research. Focusing her efforts in finding ways to apply improvements to her earlier breakthroughs in nanobiology, and occasionally seeing to tuning up the Caduceus staff.

More often than not, this lifestyle leads to very late nights, unhealthy doses of caffeine, and a diet the doctor would highly discourage in any patient (Hana had pointed this out to her on more than one occasion when Angela tried to tell her Doritos and Mountain Dew were not ideal sources of nourishment), consisting largely of missed meals and nutrition shakes.

The morning after one such night, Angela stares dully at the blocks of text of one medical journal on the screen in front of her. She realizes suddenly that she's been reading the same paragraph over and over without absorbing any information, and leans back in her chair with a tired sigh. Pulling off her reading glasses, she rubs the bridge of her nose with the pads of two fingers.

The click of large, clawed paws on the linoleum floor of the medbay rouse Angela’s focus, and she takes in a deep breath before feeling a wet nose nuzzle her free hand. She blinks blearily, but a smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

“Oh hello, Büebli,” she coos, scratching fondly behind one black, floppy ear.

The chunky mountain dog whines in reply and noses insistently at her hand, and Angela’s mind wanders to a few months past.

.

It had been just after a particularly messy escort mission. The team, including Angela herself, were doing a final sweep of the area before retiring to relax and celebrate the mission's successful completion.

Angela heard his high-pitched whine before she actually saw him, limping through the haze of dust and smoke. Lena had blinked ahead of her and made as if to scoop the dog up and carry him back, but hesitated. Probably in part because of his obvious injuries, but the primary reason was likely that he weighed as much as Lena herself.

Instead, she coaxed him to follow her to Angela, gently encouraging him and patting down the pockets of her bomber jacket.

“Bollocks,” she heard Lena mutter as they drew up to her, “thought I had a stick of jerky on me. Sorry luv.”

Angela shot Lena a disapproving look as she crouched to examine the dog, frowning deeply at the amount of blood matted in his short coat. A twinge of guilt pinched her mercilessly at the reminder of the reality of her duties with Overwatch. The innocents that were harmed in the crossfire.

She looked back into his deep brown eyes for a moment, he steadily held her gaze.

Without any more goading from Lena, she took the dog straight to the medbay.

Aside from a broken leg, a few cracked ribs, and small chunks of shrapnel spread over one side of his body, the dog was in fairly good condition considering the risks a battlefield poses. That is to say, none of his internal organs were damaged. He would heal.

Fareeha invited herself in immediately after his treatment was complete, a mug of steaming coffee in one hand. The two had grown close during their time together in Overwatch, enough that her doing so had become a normal occurrence.

“Fareeha,” Angela smiled warmly as the taller woman handed her the mug, “Thank you.”

“Angela.” She grinned back, nodding toward the dog sleeping soundly on one of the medical cots, “How is he?”

“He is stable.” The doctor readily replied, “I’ve extracted every piece of shrapnel...all of his injuries will heal.”

“Mm. Good.” Fareeha gripped the edge of a desk against the wall and leaned back on it. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned back to Angela, “Have you thought of what to call him?”

“Oh,” Angela was taken off guard for a moment, but quickly isolated any implications from the innocent question. She couldn’t possibly adopt him.

Besides, it appeared he had previous owners. The collar around his neck that Angela had cut off earlier seemed to clearly state that, a small metal tag dangling from the frayed, blood-encrusted cord.

Angela held it up to Fareeha, overly aware of the feeling of her fingers lightly scraping her palm as Fareeha took it to read the tag.

“Final.” She squinted and made a face.

.

Once again, Angela is shaken from her thoughts by a firm knock at the door and Final’s soft answering bark. Before her exhausted mind can catch up, Fareeha pops in and Final is excitedly skittering across the floor toward her. Immediately Fareeha’s hands are tousling his floppy ears and a stream of affectionate greetings (in English and Arabic both) tumble from her pursed lips, her face scrunched and eyes squinting comically. Final loves it, as he always does.

“I’m still not sure who you like more at this point, me or the dog.” Angela discloses, smiling wryly.

When Fareeha looks up at the doctor, her wide-eyed, stunned expression slightly exaggerated in such a way as to suggest her surprise isn't entirely genuine, “Um...You?”

At that reply, Angela grabs a plush toy of Final’s off the surface of her desk and throws it at Fareeha’s head, the violent squeak as it bounces comically off of her forehead ensuring Angela cannot keep up her faux-grumpy expression. She cackles when all Fareeha does is sit, petrified on the floor while Final excitedly nuzzles her with the toy that Angela chucked at her.

A stray lock of dark hair is dangling in front of Fareeha’s face, and as she smoothes it back into place with a smile and an amused twinkle in her eye, she scoots close enough to Angela to place a hand on her knee.

“I mean it.” Fareeha’s smile becomes so soft and so fond and her palm is so warm that Angela can't help but feel herself flush. “Just don't tell Final that.” He was too busy attempting to tear the plush toy apart and pull out the stuffing to pay attention, luckily for Fareeha.

And whether it’s her sleep deprived state, or the odd, comforting domesticity of the situation, or the Egyptian soldier’s own affectionate assertion, Angela feels just a little daring. “Well,” she eventually says, leaning to reach out and carefully tuck a strand of hair Fareeha had missed behind her ear, “then all is as it should be.” Her hand lingers and she sees Fareeha’s eyes widen slightly, begin searching her own. While she feels a hazy sort of calm, her heartbeat picks up and she can’t seem to pull her gaze away.

And then Final pops his huge, black and brown head up in the space between them. He nudges Fareeha obnoxiously with his rear and places his head in the doctor’s lap with a whine.

“Well you didn’t have to _butt_ me out of the conversation, Final.” Fareeha scoffs, placing a hand on her chest as if gravely offended, “I thought your mother and I taught you better. I am simply _asstounded_.”

Unable to contain a little pun-induced eye rolling, Angela stands and retrieves the dog’s leash while unsuccessfully trying to stifle an enormous yawn behind the back of a hand. Clearly having noticed, Fareeha stands and pats her (dog treat-filled) cargo pant pockets (as if checking they’re still there) as she approaches the doctor. Angela tries to hand her the leash, but she doesn’t take it.

“You really need to get out of here.” She says, not unkindly, and for a moment Angela just blinks. “Let’s all go for a walk and get some food in your system. Then you should sleep.”

Ah. Yes. Food, that’s a thing she needs.

.

Under the reasoning that Satya would be _very_ irritated (“froth at the mouth", as Jamison so aptly put it) if they brought Final into the canteen, Angela spends little time getting her food while Fareeha waits with the dog outside. Afterwards it’s a relatively short walk to the rec room, where many of their compatriots are lounging, playing games, and deep in discussion.

Lena and Hana are facing off in a furious air hockey deathmatch, with Lucio as enthusiastic announcer, DJ, and referee. Just behind them, Amélie is leaning back against the wall, watching them with a fond smile on her face. Jack and Jesse appear to be discussing American versus Mexican cuisine in their seats at the bar, Jesse occasionally knocking a drink back while Jack merely sips at his.

Foregoing the empty seats at the bar, they sit together on a well-cushioned couch and Final settles contentedly at their feet.

Angela inhales her food, mildly surprising herself only with the speed at which she does so (which Fareeha lightly teases her about, enough to get a smile and a gentle slap).

 

Soon enough, the voices and the din of the air hockey contest become muted, and she finds her head resting comfortably on Fareeha’s shoulder. She feels an arm wrap around her shoulders, and relaxes further into the warm embrace.

.

When she wakes up, it's to Gabriel's harsh voice, rasping in an angry tone.

“ _Angela,_ ” he says, and it sounds like he's gritting his teeth, “Angela do you mind taking care of your _mutt_?”

She rubs an eye and blinks blearily, reluctantly pushing off of Fareeha (who kept her arm around Angela) to wobble upright.

“Wha…” Angela yawns, “what is going on, Gabriel?”

Brows drawn intensely, Gabriel Reyes once again grinds his teeth in agitation. He points at Final, who shrinks back and glances between him and Angela worriedly.

“He _pissed_ on my _door_.” He growls gutturally.

“Oh,” Angela blinks mildly, glancing at the large dog at her feet. Big, shining pools of deep brown sorrowfully pull at her heartstrings and prod at her protective instincts.

“Are you sure it was dog pee?” She asks sleepily, realizing how strange a question it is only seconds after it comes out of her mouth.

Next to her Fareeha tries unsuccessfully to stifle a snort, and Hana and Lena cackle from across the room. All Angela can think is that the thick vein in the side of Gabriel's head would burst if he got any more worked up.

“I _smelled_ it!” He's nearly shouting, but Angela takes it as a good sign he hasn't dived at her dog yet.

Huh. She blinks. _Her dog_.

Jesse's voice floats from his place at the bar, southern drawl accompanying it, “D’you have a habit ‘a sniffin’ dog piss, Reyes?”

Fareeha grins and looks over Angela's head at Jesse, “Well we won't judge you Gabe,” she looks back at his increasingly agitated expression, “But you _bladder_ clean it up.”

Lena’s cackling starts up again, Hana groans painfully into her own giggling, and she's joined by Lucio when he can no longer resist. Amélie puts a palm to her face.

  
Jesse barks a laugh before Gabriel can respond, “Haha, ‘Reeha, that's _golden_.”

Angela places a hand over her mouth to cover a smile. Poor Gabriel already had to deal with the heckling of the two most notorious Pun Lords in Overwatch, he didn't need everyone laughing at his expense.

“Alright,” Jack gruffly interrupts, standing from the barstool and walking up to Gabriel (who's blood is undoubtedly boiling with rage). “That's enough. Go return to your quarters, all of you.”

Hana groans loudly, and Jesse obnoxiously replies, “Aw, Morrison, don’t _dampen_ the conversation.”

Jack turns to him, and Hana starts trudging reluctantly into the hall behind the others after she sees the look on his face, muttering something about him thinking he was their dad.

“Fine, you stay. The rest of you go.”

The amusement drains from Jesse's expression, and he almost begins to look anxious. To top it off, Gabriel levels his dark, angry glare at him, but he refuses to so much as glance in Angela's direction.

When Fareeha gets up she says nothing, but holds out a hand that Angela grasps with a tiny smile and allows her to pull her to her feet. She takes Final’s leash in the other hand and glances at Angela with a mischievous spark in her eye as they start to walk out.

When they reach the doorway, Fareeha turns back toward them and smirks when she catches Jesse's eye.

“ _Urine_ for it now.”

She laughs and pulls Angela (who's giggling uncontrollably) along while she takes off down the hall, Final running excitedly in front of them. Jesse's exasperated yell echoes from behind,

“Why doesn't _she_ get in trouble!?”

.

**Author's Note:**

> It took 84 years but I finished this. Hope u get a laff, pyro. 
> 
> Planning to make this a series/multichap, but updates would be slow and/or sporadic. 
> 
> Büebli - "Little boy"


End file.
